Chapter 7: The Weight of Evidence
Patricia called it the best gift Teresa could have given us.
"She offered restitution," Patricia said the next morning.
"On a recorded call.
That is a tacit admission that the transfers were not legitimate investments made with your consent.
Her own attorney is going to be furious with her."
"Will it be enough?"
"Combined with everything else?
Yes.
But I want to walk you through where we are, because the next few days are going to move quickly and I need you steady."
She laid it out.
The asset freeze was holding.
The joint accounts, the home equity line, and two additional accounts Patricia's investigation had uncovered — one in Diego's name alone, one in T.
Alvarez Holdings — were all locked pending court review.
The internal transfer logs from the contact at Diego's firm had been verified.
Eleven client accounts.
Transfers spanning fourteen months.
Total amount moved through T.
Alvarez Holdings: just over $340,000.
Of that, $73,000 had come from our joint savings.
The rest belonged to people who had trusted Castillo & Reyes with their money.
Robert Castillo had provided a formal statement.
The firm was cooperating.
The notary, Claudia Vega, had been contacted by the State Bar.
Her license was under review.
And Diego's attorney — a man named Gareth Solis who had called Patricia twice in two days trying to arrange a settlement conversation — had gone quiet after Teresa's recorded call.
"He's reassessing," Patricia said.
"He may advise Diego to cooperate with the financial investigation in exchange for reduced personal exposure.
That's actually not the worst outcome for you."
"What do you mean?"
"If Diego cooperates and names Teresa as the architect of the scheme — which the evidence already suggests — your position as a defrauded spouse becomes cleaner.
You were not a participant.
You were a victim.
That matters for the divorce settlement, for the house, and for custody."
"He'll turn on his mother?"
Patricia was quiet for a moment.
"He already has, in a way.
He called our office this morning."
I sat forward.
"What?"
"He asked to speak with me directly.
I declined and referred him back to his own counsel.
But the fact that he called — without Gareth Solis, before business hours — tells me he's frightened."
I thought about Diego's face the afternoon of Sofía's birthday.
The way fear had crossed it for just one second when I mentioned whoever asks.
He had always been afraid of consequences.
He had just never believed they would reach him.
"What happens next?" I asked.
"The financial crimes division has enough to move forward.
I expect formal action within the week.
In the meantime, I've filed our divorce petition.
Grounds include financial fraud, forgery, and the documented incident involving Sofía." She paused.
"I also filed our opposition to Teresa's grandparent visitation motion this morning.
I attached the photographs of Sofía's arm, the medical note from the urgent care visit you made the morning after, and a statement from Camila as a witness."
I had taken Sofía to urgent care that Saturday morning, before I knew anything about the money.
The nurse had documented the mark.
I had not known at the time how important that quiet, careful act would become.
"How is Sofía?" Patricia asked.
"She asks about her dad," I said.
"I tell her he loves her and that the adults are working some things out."
"That's the right answer."
"She asked me yesterday if we were going to move."
"What did you say?"
"I said I didn't know yet.
But that wherever we went, Bunny was coming."
A small pause.
"She sounds like a remarkable little girl."
"She is," I said.
"She's the reason I didn't go back."
After I hung up, I sat at Camila's kitchen table with my hands around a cup of coffee that had gone cold.
Through the window, the morning light was flat and grey.
My phone lit up.
A message from the contact at Diego's firm — I still didn't know their name, had not asked, had decided that was safer for both of us.
*I heard Diego came in this morning and cleared his desk.
Security walked him out.
I thought you should know.*
I read it twice.
Then I typed back: *Thank you.
For everything.*
The reply was short.
*I hope you and your daughter are okay.*
May you like
I looked at the message for a long moment.
Then I set the phone down and finished my cold coffee.
